I haven’t written to you in a week and I’m sorry.
I’m not sorry b/c I think you’ve missed my letters. I haven’t gone bananas – I understand that you aren’t here, don’t know how to use the internet and can’t read. I’m sorry I stopped writing to you b/c it felt silly when I told people. I’m sorry I stopped writing to you b/c it was really helping me cope with the fact that you’re gone. I’m sorry I stopped writing to you b/c your Papa has had to hold me when I cry since I lost my outlet of expression.
So I’m writing you again. And I need to fill you in on what’s been going on.
Quinn scared the crap out of us last week. Last Friday. A week after I took you to the vet to check on your cough, I was taking Quinny to the vet to find out why he was vomiting. 5 times in 15 minutes isn’t normal for anyone. It turns out the lilies that Papa bought me are extremely toxic to cats. Even so, your vet didn’t think that’s what caused him to be sick so she ran every test in the book, took x-rays, did blood work, gave him fluids…we spent over $300 to find out Quinn is fine. I’m sorry we didn’t do that with your cough. The vet says there is no way to know what caused your passing and even if we had run tests, we probably still wouldn’t know. That’s fine. I’d miss you the same whether we knew or not.
Quinn isn’t fine though. He misses you lots. The cat that wouldn’t stop moving for more than 5 minutes now sleeps for hours. He’ll only sleep in your beds. Not the one in the bedroom b/c you never used that one anyway. If we can’t find him, we know to check Papa’s office chair that you claimed as yours (no one would sit in it, you made it a little smelly and that was okay b/c it was your chair). Quinny sleeps in it all the time now. He’s even cashing in on all of the free belly rubs we have that we saved for you. Strange cat. The first thing he wants when we wake him from a nap is a belly rub. Sound familiar?
He stares, too. Sometimes a little too long to be comfortable for us. He doesn’t stare at us or anything in particular. He stares at spaces. Spaces you used to rest. Spaces you used to sit and watch us in the kitchen. Spaces all over the house.
There are days when Papa and I are totally fine. Then there are days I’ll notice your Papa sitting in his car after getting home from work with tears filling his eyes b/c your happy face isn’t in the window looking out at him. That hurts me more than my own sadness.
I still wish you were here. Even with that smelly breath.